


Worldbuilding 18: Brothers in Blood

by JoAsakura



Series: X-Force: Mutant Crimes Investigation Unit [17]
Category: MCIU
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-30
Updated: 2010-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what is this? Technically, this is a worldbuilding for the XF:MCIU universe (http://joasakura.deviantart.com/gallery/?24020305#X-Force-MCIU). It involves Nate Pryor (Cable) and Akihiro Inugami (Daken).</p><p>Normally, I would post this straightup at deviant art. But it's got a pr0ny bit at the end, and I'm not comfortable with having that out if people don't enjoy reading that sort of thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worldbuilding 18: Brothers in Blood

New York City. October, 2008.

Nathan Pryor is not comfortable.

Put him in a costume, give him a big gun and point him at a rampaging tyrannosaurus rex or evil clone twin and he's perfectly fine. Nate's life thus far has prepped him extensively for exactly those sort of situations.

Nate's life has not prepped him for standing nervously in front of the ultra-trendy Nobu Fifty-Seven wearing a charcoal-coloured cashmere sweater and a pair of raw japanese denim jeans that Dom bought him before their most recent breakup (Rumekistan, three years prior. Opposite sides of a coup and she shot him in the head. No hard feelings) and that hug parts of his body a little too well for his taste.

He doesn't know how to deal with normal people properly, he thinks, adjusting the black leather glove covering his cybernetic hand. And he certainly doesn't know how to properly deal with the smug fucker who summoned him here with an imperious text message and admonishment to not wear "some freaky X-Force outfit".

The hostess gives him a sweeping look, and apparently finds him acceptable. "I'm meeting someone here" he rumbles, absently tucking a lock of fox-red and silver behind his ear.

"Akihiro Inugami." He adds with a dejected sigh.

 

Undisclosed Location, Middle East. 1979.

Nate was just shy of his 16th birthday when his sister (his younger sister, but so, so much older than he was) sent him away. Apocalypse's shock troops were storming Askan'i, and the decision was made (without asking Nate. Telling him. Salvo's faded blue eyes sad as he stroked back the boy's silver-streaked hair) that it was time for him to go back to the time he'd been born in, to help create a world where Apocalypse's special brand of hate would never take root.

Salvo whispered a name in Nate's ear, and Mother Rachel's chronoskimming power opened a portal. It would take him to the X-men, she said. And his father.

The next thing Nate was aware of, his brains felt as if they were being pulled out through his toes, and the world went from the aching cold of his home to a sudden slap of heat. He was pretty certain his eyeballs arrived about two seconds later and Nate promptly heaved the meagre rations he'd had for breakfast all over the nearest convenient object.

Which happened to be an angry man in some sort of uniform who shouted at Nate in a language he didn't understand.

Several things happened in rapid succession. Nate stumbled backwards from the shouting man, and someone stepped forward. "Good job, kid." the man barked in English (Nate knew english. Salvo had drilled him mercilessly in it) Then there was a quick, sick sound of metal claws popping from tender flesh and before Nate threw up again and passed out, all he could think of was "Wolverine."

2008

Aki was sitting at a table with a bottle of hugely expensive Montrachet at his side. Thick black hair flopped in what looked to be a careless mohawk and his black-on-black silk suit gleamed in the light. "You actually came." He sounded delighted, sliding out of his chair like a predator to welcome Nate.

Nate looked down at him. The years had given him a growth spurt that left him towering over most people. "Aki. Last time I saw you, you had a buzz cut." He was proud he didn't flinch when a too-warm hand brushed his cheek before Aki sat down.

"Last time I saw you, baby brother, you didn't have so many wrinkles around your eyes." Aki arched an eybrow at him.

"Not all of us have a healing factor that keeps us young." Nate sat down and let Aki pour him a glass. "What are you doing on my turf, Aki?"

"Business." He answered, quickly amending it to. "Not Daken business. The legitimate kind." he waved a perfectly manicured hand at Nate dismissively. "Besides, I didn't realise you'd taken up residency here until after I agreed to come. I thought you were still in trouble over that situation with the dam."

Nate knocked back the glass of wine with a speed that made both Akihiro and the waiter choke. "I thought we had a deal, after Voroseihka, Aki."

"I agreed to not interfere with you and yours if you showed me the same courtesy, little brother." Aki said with the faintest of sneers.

"Don't call me that." Nate said, and poured another glass.

The soon-to-be former Soviet State of Vorseihka, 1984

It had seemed like a good gig. But being caught between the Russians and the Pashkat rebel forces had turned out to be exactly the opposite.

"I have got to get out of here." Nate shouted over the sounds of mortar exploding. If either side caught them, they were dead. "You can do whatever the fuck you like."

Aki leaned back, raking through his buzz-cut black hair and taking a swig of the whiskey he'd stolen when they trashed the local governor's residence. "You make it sound like I did a bad thing, killing them."

"We were *working* for them." Nate growled, sinking lower behind the retaining wall they sheltered beneath. "of course the rest of the Pashkat are going to be pissed off at us. You gutted those people in that village! ALL of them. The women? The children?"

"They got in my way, Nate." Aki held the bottle towards Nate with a little smile. His fatigues were soaked in blood and spatters covered his face like some grotesque war paint. "I don't like it when people get in my way."

"Are you going to try and kill me too?" Nate shoved the bottle aside, checking the clip in his handgun. "Because I am not going to let you do this anymore. I've had enough."

There was a blur of motion, the whiskey bottle shattering next to Nate's head and partially popped claw resting against his lower lip. Aki leaned towards him. "You think you can shoot me, even wound me before I put this through your throat?" He purred, the sound cutting through the chaos beyond.

"Who says I need a gun?" The air around them stirred with a gathering of TK force. "It'll be worth the hit I take on the TO infection to vaporise you."

2008

Nate unapologetically dug into the priciest piece of beef he'd ever eaten. Aki was watching him intently. "What?" He asked around a mouthful of meat. "You're paying for this. I'm going to eat something nice."

"You took a hit on your TO, didn't you?" He said after a moment, taking a bite of cod with miso. "You smell more... metallic." When Nate snorted, Aki leaned forward. "How much ground have you lost, Nate?"

Nate sighed. "The rest of my arm, through my spine. Leg up through my pelvis." He brought a black gloved hand up to his face. "Took an MLF round to the face in 1992. Everything under the subdermis is TO now."

"Your eye almost looks natural." Aki sat back. "You must work very hard on that."

"I usually let it stay white. I force it into colour when I'm out to cut down on the stares."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Aki reached out, fingers stroking the back of Nate's gloved hand. "Look at us. We're having a mostly normal conversation."

"I'd like to keep the property damage and bloodshed to a minimum." Nate said after another moment. "I want you out of my city, Aki."

1979

The man with the claws turned out to not be the legendary Wolverine, Nate was disappointed to find out when he finally woke up from the raging fever.

He was lying on a narrow cot in a hot room. Dusty light threaded through narrow windows and there was a distant sound of tinny music. A stranger.. the man with the claws he'd glimpsed, was sitting nearby, reading a book in a strange, swooping script.

"Wolverine?" Nate asked, throat dry. "My sister said I should find..." The english tripped in his mouth, so used to speaking askan'i.

"Wolverine?" The man blinked. "Logan. My asshole father?"

"Oh." Nate ruminated on this for a moment. "What's the date?"

"August 15, 1979." The man, who later introduced himself as Daken, said, raking back through his long black hair.

"I'm twenty years too early." Nate said, in what might have been his native language, for the confused look on Daken's face. "I shouldn't be here."

"No kidding. Although the look on the General's face when you appeared out of nowhere and barfed on him? Priceless." He leaned closer and Nate felt a surge of warmth in his cheeks. "You're actually pretty cute, when you're not thrashing around."

"I don't have anywhere to go." Nate licked his lips. There was a heady fragrance to this son-of-wolverine that he liked.

"Are you coming on to me, junior?" Daken laughed. "That's pretty ballsy for someone in your situation."

Nate scrubbed his hands over his face, the metal threading through the one and up his arm gleaming in the light. "Ah, wait. They said something about this time and sex. It's more repressive now, isn't it?"

"You make no sense at all. But if there's one thing I don't do, it's repressive." Daken grinned and took Nate's TO-infected hand. "Cyborg. Never seen anything like this though. What's your name, pretty crazy kid?"

"Nate. Nate Pryor."

2008

Nate stretched out on the old couch he'd curb-picked for his apartment. The place was still mostly empty. But he didn't care. Soon his team would be coming and this crazy project of his, the MCIU, would finally become a reality.

He didn't need Aki here causing trouble, and he'd left his former partner at Nobu with exactly that warning.

Midway through dinner, Nate had become aware of Aki ramping up the pheromones, a dirty little trick he'd used to great advantage over the years. The level had gotten high enough in the restaurant that a couple two tables over had spontaneously orgasmed and the bartender had disappeared into the restroom for an indecent length of time.

Nate's telepathy, mostly bound up in keeping the pain from the TO infection managed, served to damp down most of the effects, but free from the confines of the restaurant and aki's presence, Nate had to admit that he wasn't completely immune.

It was a relief to unzip the stiff denim and pull his cock out- flesh hard and flushed against the silver of his artificial hand. He stroked himself for a moment, cool metal against warm skin. It felt nice, and just removed enough that maybe he could imagine it was someone else doing this. Domino, maybe. Or Sam. (he feels so guilty about that. From when he first met that big-eared hick with the name that Salvo had murmured in his ear, and the fantasies he'd spent years unconsciously nurturing took a sharp veer to the left). His imagination mercifully skips over that drunken evening with Wade, but before it can go any further, there's a buzz at the intercom that makes Nate jump.

It doesn't take a great deal of telepathy to find out who it is.

"Nate, either let me in like a normal person or I will slice my way through your lobby door and continue to slice my way through whatever's in my way until I get to your apartment." Aki says through the crappy little speaker and Nate buzzes him in with a sigh.

"What." He says when Aki finally appears in his doorway. "I thought I told you..."

"I'm leaving in the morning, Nate." Aki smiles at him. "You left just as I was starting to get to you, that makes me sad."

"You want something from me?" Nate rambles back to the couch, leaving Aki in the doorway. He's tired from the politeness and Aki's presence is not helping the raging hard-on Nate had to stuff back in his jeans.

"A goodbye kiss?" Aki says, more than asks, and straddles nate without ceremony. "It's been a long time, little brother."

"Don't call me that." Nate says, but without much heat. Sometimes, the reed has to bend, rather than break, he reminds himself, and this has always been the best way to deal with the smaller man leaning in to kiss him now.

Nate's almost forgotten how good it can be, as Aki's tongue slides across his, finds himself arching up into it before it ends abruptly. Aki only looks down at him with heavy eyes, taking nate's metal hand in his, bringing it to his lips to lap at each silver fingertip.

The sensory info that Nate gets from his cybernetic parts is vastly different than from his wetware, and the feeling gives him a delicious shudder. "Akiii..." He growls, running his free hand down Aki's back.

It's more a Daken smile than an Akihiro smile that answers him. Louche and predatory. "Is this still flesh?" He asks, sliding his hand between them, stroking Nate through the stiff denim. "Feels like it."

Nate can feel the pheromones chipping away at his resolve. "Damnit Aki, turn down the scent cloud. It's going to smell like you for weeks in here now."

"Something to remember me by." Aki grins, sliding off Nate's lap to the floor. "I'd cut these off of you but they really show off your ass to great effect." He adds, the rasp of the zipper punctuating his words.

"I hate you."

"I know." Aki says and it takes everything Nate has to not grab that stupid mohawk and force Aki down on his cock. Instead, his fingers twitch against the upholstery as the smaller man rakes feral teeth lightly down his shaft. His tongue is rough, like a cat's and each rasp against the aching head wrings something like a sob from Nate's throat.

When Nate comes an embarrassingly short time later, he doesn't want to say the words that are so close to the surface and so he just kisses Aki and tastes himself in it. "Go away, Aki."

And after he does, Nate's not entirely sure who he hates more.


End file.
